The Mettle of the MasterMage by Becky James EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Becky James
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Fantasy Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.1 MB
- Price: Free
I hung from my wrists in chains suspended from the ceiling, shivering in
the dark, cold cell. Goosebumps tracked up my bare chest and back. My
toes brushed the floor, so I spent the time standing until my calf muscles
gave out or doing pull-ups, but it was getting rather inconvenient just
standing here for so long.
Leaving a prisoner was part of the interrogation tactics of the
Daronians, but this seemed far longer than their prescribed period of time.
Perhaps they had changed it from one turn of the glass to three? It certainly
felt like it.
My father’s description of each country’s interrogation style played in
my mind. “Rush will use their heat, Skieniens will be hands on. Daronians
leave their prisoners, solitary confinement being the highest form of torture.
But Oberrotians are the worst.” Upholders in Oberrot could seize a
person’s assets, forcing them to sell themselves into slavery in order to
survive.
At least that wouldn’t happen to me. I shifted my weight and prepared
to complete a score more pull-ups. What time was it? How long did I have
left before—
The cell door screeched open. At last! I raised my head, my neck and
shoulder muscles protesting and sore from the long suspension.
Two men walked in. The Minister was short, as Daronians typically are,
and dressed neatly in fine, dark silks with his badges of office prominently
displayed along his collar. Behind him came an equally short but hulking
brute of a fighter, wide with muscles from wrestling and dressed less neatly.
I nodded to the fighter, professional to professional. He stared
impassively back and cracked his knuckles.
So, it was going to be like that.
“I take it you are ready to talk?” the Minister asked in Daronian.
“Not particularly, unless you had a specific subject in mind, Minister,” I
replied, using the polite form of Daronian.
The Minister raised his walking stick. I braced myself for a slap, but
instead he whipped it around and poked the end against my chest. “These
tattoos. What do they mean?”
“Ah. I can’t tell you exactly, but I can tell you my rank and name. I’m
Ranger Shardsson, sir. Well met.” I bowed my head and kept it lowered for
the required amount of time. Really, I should be bowing from the waist to a
Minister, but as I was chained the ceiling, it was the best I could do.
The jewel on my shoulder buzzed angrily.
The Minister frowned at it. “What is that?”
“My deepest apologies, I’m getting a missive. Would you be so kind as
to excuse me? Thank you.” I tipped my head and pressed my cheek to the
carmine soul jewel and let my thoughts spool free as the dungeon faded
from my consciousness. “Yes?” I thought.
“Hi!” Evyn said warmly through the lodestone connection.
“Evyn!” A wave of love flooded me, so strong I smiled.
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